


VOLUPTATEM REUS

by words_of_a_broken_man



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Assumed Relationship, Bedannibal - Freeform, F/M, Florence - Freeform, Hannibal - Freeform, Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, Kink, PWP, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Season 3, Smut, Toys, bedelia du maurier - Freeform, electric-couple prompts, femdom bedelia, shameless porn, voyuerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_of_a_broken_man/pseuds/words_of_a_broken_man
Summary: Curious as to the limits of Hannibal's taste for finery, Bedelia presents him with an unconventional gift in time for the opening of his exhibition.Set during the Season 3 Florence arc for @electric-couple prompt number something...  Yes it's shameless porn.





	VOLUPTATEM REUS

It stunned her how easily they had fallen into such harmonious domesticity; Bedelia assumed it stemmed from Hannibal’s constant desire to please and entertain, regardless of the size of his audience. There were moments in Baltimore when she wondered if his meticulous attention ever wavered, whether the self-appreciating whimsy ever dissolved enough to permit him to partake in a less than perfect meal or appreciate anything less than flawless. Initially she observed him with a degree of fascination; serial killers are known adherents to ritual. Ever the epicurean, Hannibal conducted his on a marble bench-top beneath the finest Japanese Damascus steel. For all his folly, pretension was absent as soon as he entered his kitchen, his reverence for produce an ironic counterpoint to its source. Knowing the power of his hands, watching him glide around had become a sensual, almost erotic pleasure.

“Hannibal. Have you ever ordered a pizza?”  

Quietly slicing a side of freshly cured gravlax, Hannibal placed the knife down on the bench and wiped his hands looking somewhat confounded.

“I’ve enjoyed pizza in Napoli?” He sipped his espresso, watching her carefully. “I have made pizza, I prefer stracciatella to traditional buffala. I only use fresh San Marziano tomatoes for my sugo…”

“You’re avoiding the question, Hannibal.” Bedelia watched him carefully.

“No.” Hannibal returned to task, cracking eggs into a bowl with a single-handed flourish. “I do not order pizza, Bedelia.”

“The question was not, do you.” She sipped her coffee, cradling the warm cup between both palms. “Have you.”

“No.” Hannibal grabbed a second bowl, more eggs; just the whites this time. “I have never had the desire to order a pizza. I have eaten it out of politeness, but never by choice.”

“Hannibal, it is entirely possible to find pleasure in less than perfect pursuits.” Bedelia smiled, suspicions confirmed.

“I take pleasure in beautiful things.” Hannibal whisked. “I can appreciate the appeal of certain cuisine without feeling compelled to partake in it. There is a time and a place for convenience food. I’ve enjoyed fish and chips in Brighton, lobster rolls in Maine. I’ve eaten hotdogs in New York, all cultural experiences, all meals that someone has taken time to prepare. There is no romance in ordering pizza.” Hannibal bundled a fistful of chives, mincing them effortlessly. “I suppose you’d like to know if I’ve bought a cheeseburger at a drive through?”

“No.” Bedelia paused. “There is no shame in enjoying less cultured arenas. If you are capable of admitting to them.”

“And what ‘less cultured’ pursuit is your vice, Bedelia?” Hannibal set a heavy-based pan onto the burner. “Sauvignon Blanc? Televised talent quests? Microwave dinners? Jazz?”

“Jazz?” Bedelia looked at him incredulously.

“I find the discordant time signatures offensive.”

“Of course.” She laughed.

Hannibal placed a plate down in front of her; scrambled egg whites, gravlax, avocado with toasted ciabatta and assumed his position opposite her at the table. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I scrambled the whites in a little butter, you watched me fillet the salmon on Tuesday.” Hannibal picked up his cutlery.

“Thankyou.” Bedelia delicately loaded her fork.

“The studiolo have requested a preview of my exhibition this evening.” Hannibal slid an ornately printed invitation across the table. “I’d like you to attend with me.”

“An Exposition of Attrocious Torture Instruments…” Bedelia mused, suppressing a chuckle. So obvious it was almost counter-intuitive. “You hide in plain sight Hannibal, yet no one sees.”

“People see what they choose to. Seven o’clock this evening. I will be home around five, I don’t think it will be a late evening.” Hannibal finished his espresso. “Given Professor Sogliato is indisposed.”

“Or merely disposed.” Bedelia glared at him. Hannibal shrugged innocently.

“Oreos, Hannibal.” Bedelia dropped her eyes, averting his gaze. “And Arsenal in the English Premier League.”

 

***

 

“I have a gift for you.” Bedelia appeared in the doorway, a strapless dark ultramarine cocktail dress, a daringly high split affording him a glimpse of skin.

“Lapis lazuli.” Hannibal looked up from the chaise lounge, shifting focus from his cufflinks to drink her in, gaze laden with heady desire. “The rarest blue, an exquisite beauty.”

Bedelia stationed herself between his knees, offering a small box. Hannibal eased the lid off, genuine intrigue dancing across his face.

“So many items of desire have evolved from instruments of torture, Hannibal.” Bedelia lifted a finely crafted stainless steel object from the box. A two inch long ridged spear that swept back in a loop, encircled by a ring holding four evenly spaced balls in orbit. Hannibal covered his mouth, averting his gaze lest she see any apprehension. “I’d like you to wear this tonight.”

Hannibal took the ringed plug from her, examining it carefully.

“Do I need to explain it to you?” Bedelia offered, enjoying his consternation.

“No…” Hannibal met her gaze. “An object fashioned for your pleasure adapted from a design for pain. An appropriate choice for this evening.”

Bedelia left him in contemplation, returning moments later with a small bottle of lubricant and placed it on the lounge next to him.

“As you wish.” Hannibal unbuckled, freeing himself from his shorts as she watched.

“Would you like a hand?” Bedelia loomed, anchored between his knees as he spread lube down the length of the plug.

“I fear at this stage that would be counter-productive, Bedelia.” Hannibal lined the spear up with eye of his flaccid cock, slowly letting it sink in until the orbit sat snugly below the head. Bedelia’s cool fingers entwined with his, grazing the underside of his shaft, teasing until the ring began to tighten just below the thick ridge of his head. It wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t outstanding. Bedelia began to stroke him slowly, deliberately as he adjusted to the sensation. He slid a palm up her thigh, fingers searching for lace. Bedelia tightened her grip around his head, giving the orbit a firm twist.

“Ahhh!” Hannibal arched backward, breath catching in his throat; the searing pleasure of her touch resonating inside him and across his skin as the steel shifted. Bedelia leaned down, lips grazing his ear as she twisted it again. Hannibal fought to remain still, gripping the edge of the lounge as he thrust up into her fist.

“This particular instrument isn’t purely for my pleasure, Hannibal.” She whispered. “But when you fuck me tonight it will be.” She drew back, letting her words settle as she retreated nonchalantly to the bathroom. “Tidy yourself up, the car will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Hannibal stared at his cock; intrigued, flustered and silently impressed.

 

***

 

“Dr Fell!” The last of the Studiolo men embraced him warmly, shaking his hand with fervor. “It’s a shame Professore Sogliato could not make it this evening, he was just beginning to warm to your talents.”

“It is, Professore.” Hannibal glowed, relishing the praise. “Sogliato and I were just beginning to discover a shared mutual taste.”

“Please give my regards to Mrs Fell.” The portly academic smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Of course.” Hannibal smiled. “Thankyou for your support, Professore.”

A gentle westerly breeze blew across the piazza, tourists milling around a handful of street vendors as the Duomo glowed across from the Palazzo. Bedelia let the breeze cool her skin, silently cataloguing the splendid architecture in her mind. There were worse locations for exile. Lost in thought she didn’t hear his approach, momentarily startled when strong arms enveloped her, the welcome, reassuring heat of him against her back immediately calming.

“Florence is perhaps even more beautiful at night.” Hannibal mused, inhaling her scent.

“Are the dragons sated, Hannibal?”

“For the time being.” He paused. “Your thoughts?”

“They become more enamoured with you daily.”

They stood in silence for a moment as life continued quietly in the Piazza below.

“Processed American cheese, Phil Collins…” Hannibal paused, kissing the side of her neck. “And Universal horror films.”

“That sounds positively awful.” Bedelia laughed.

“My guilty pleasures.” Hannibal’s hand found the split in her dress, fabric gathering above his palm. “You have your Oreos and British football…” His fingers caught the side of her lingerie. “And a third.”

“What might that be?” She shifted against him, the thick ridge of his cock pressing urgently against her ass.

“Your choice of words earlier this evening led me to believe that I fail to meet all of your needs.” His fingers slipped beneath fabric, gently teasing her open. Bedelia reflexively widened her stance, inviting the contact.

“What need do you feel you're neglecting, Hannibal?” Her hand covered his through the fabric of her dress, pushing it down toward her entrance.

“I take considerable pride in being an attentive and considerate lover…” His other hand snaked beneath her dress, gathering it in his wake as he peeled the scrap of fabric beneath away. Bedelia leaned forward, bracing herself against the balcony in anticipation. “As much as I despise the word and rarely engage in this manner of behaviour, you asked me to fuck you.” Hannibal filled her with a single swift move, breath escaping her lips with a hiss. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” Bedelia whispered, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

“Anyone who cares to look up and leave their reality can see us, Bedelia.” He set a fast rhythm, reaching around to tease her.

“People see what they want, Hannibal…” Bedelia closed her eyes gripping the balcony, the studded orbit teasing deliciously as he fucked her, relishing the momentary freedom.

“What do you need from me, Bedelia?” Hannibal breathed, grip tightening around her hips.  
  
“Fuck me…” Bedelia bit her bottom lip as the studs caressed her. “Harder, Hannibal…”

Hannibal drove into her as she began to tighten around him; the press of his insistent cock driving her weak-kneed over the edge. Hannibal looped an arm around her, holding her steady as he sought his own end. He felt the familiar surge begin, but the ridged plug obstructing him slowed his release. Hannibal gripped her tightly as wave after wave of pleasure wracked him, cursing under his breath as he fought to spend himself inside her. Pain and pleasure melding as buried himself.

“That’s quite a device…” He offered breathlessly, slipping from her reluctantly. Bedelia twisted in his arms, drawing him in for a kiss as life continued in the Piazza below.

“Add it to your exposition, Hannibal.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -The obscure fetish item Bedelia gifts Hannibal is ringed Penis plug. It roughly approximates a 'Prince Albert' without anyone ramming a bolt through their snag. Don't google it at work.  
> \- Partially inspired by MM's quote, (the worst way Hannibal could die) "choking on a cheeseburger with a diet coke in his hand."  
> \- Equally inspired kmo's assertion that Florence was little more than a non-stop sex and murder romp for our two favourite playthings. The fun is in devising new scenarios...  
> \- Even though a pretentious Italian title would have been more appropriate, I defaulted to Latin.


End file.
